


Idiot Savant

by DetectiveIdiotBoy



Series: Idiot Savant [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: (With an emphasis on the 'idiot' part), Assault, Escape, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Idiot Savant Sole Survivor, Kidnapping, prequel fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveIdiotBoy/pseuds/DetectiveIdiotBoy
Summary: Welp. Nate had heard enough. It may be 300 years late for Al Capone to show up, but Nate knew 'mob speak' when he heard it. He backed up the slippery stairs towards the door. Diamond City wasn't that that far south, he could probably travel there and catch a room and dinner at the Dug Out. Maybe he could try to find that detective again; if the guy was still kickin' then he would make an excellent partner on his mission to find Shaun.---How did Nick and Nate meet after the Sole Survivor had their little falling out with MacCready? Well, funny story...
Relationships: Sole Survivor & Nick Valentine
Series: Idiot Savant [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031331
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	1. Trip, stumble, fall

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this one has been in my drafts for a while now haha. Originally this was all going to be one chapter, but I split it in half because editing all 7500 words would be a bitch and a half. 
> 
> By the way, this is a prequel to the other two fics in the Idiot Savant saga, so this one can be read first if you haven't read the other two (soon to be three) stories in there. Anyways, enjoy the show!! :D

Nate was absolutely  _ furious _ . 

Honestly, he should have seen this coming; he’s been traveling for about a month with a glorified serial killer, of course, he was gonna get dumped off and punched in the face as soon as MacCready was done with him. Serves him right for thinking they were friends.

Things hadn’t been going well for a while now, if Nate were honest with himself. MacCready held a very different moral standard from him, which was a polite way of saying the man was utterly selfish and self-obsessed. The only thing that mattered to him in the world was money. If it didn’t pay caps, he didn’t care. He had absolutely no sense of moral duty. The only reason Nate stuck with MacCready for as long as he did was because the man was the only person who both knew the lay of the land in post-apocalypse Commonwealth and was willing to travel with Nate; without him, Nate was just going to have to get by on 200-year-old memories, a topological Pip-Boy map, and good ol’ fashion luck.

Nate’s nose still ached from where MacCready had buried his fist in it two hours ago. He’d gotten a good swing in at MacCready before the two were broken up by Goodneighbor’s watch, but Nate knew he’d lost that fight when Dr. Amari reset his nose and it came out with a crook. He really wished he’d given MacCready more than a black eye and sprained wrist to remember the night by. He’d had a stimpack since then, which kept it from swelling, but it still ached like a bitch and every sting of pain made Nate hate MacCready just a little more.

The worst part was now he had no idea how he was supposed to track down the guy who murdered his wife and kidnapped his son. Sure, he’d been running in circles with MacCready (partly because he never trusted the guy enough to tell him what he was really looking for) but at least they were going somewhere. Nate would have to go back to the Brotherhood of Steel for help if things didn’t start looking up, and he already knew he didn’t want that. He’d just got done serving his time with one jingoistic, bloodthirsty military, he wasn’t looking to join another. The Minutemen were a kind bunch, but Nate just didn’t see how a ragtag group of local boy scouts could assist him in tracking down a kid who went missing anywhere between yesterday and two centuries ago. 

Nate kicked a rock, listened to it skip across the pavement and then  _ bang _ into the metal fence around Park Street Station. In the back of his head, he heard MacCready hissing at him not to make so much noise, and he replied “Yeah, make me, asshole” under his breath to absolutely no one but himself.

Nate ended up strolling through the park without thinking. It was where he went when he was in the city and needed to clear his head. He would meet up with Nora here between her classes at University; later they would have their wedding in the same Pavilion where the date that led to Shaun’s conception had happened only 8 weeks prior. 

Nate smiled. It hurt so much to think about her. Their pavilion was long gone, replaced with a nuclear dumping ground and rumors about a monster living underneath. Nora was gone too, buried outside their home in Sanctuary with all the others who were lost in the vault. Even the anonymous skeletons of their experimenters were given somewhere to rest, as much as Nate felt they didn't deserve it. 

Nate wanted to get his son back, sure, but how on earth was he going to go about doing that when he didn't even know who took Shaun in the first place? The obvious suspect seemed to be the Institute, but if it was them that opened up a whole ‘nother set of problems. 

What he really needed was someone like the Silver Shroud who could track down bad guys with vague clues - a detective. He doubted that was a profession that existed anymore, at least not formally. It seemed like most of the Commonwealth workforce these days consisted of farmers, traders, and raiders. Although, come to think of it when he had been running around the old stadium he’d heard rumors about someone who solved missing person cases before becoming one himself. No one seemed to want to talk about him though, and with him out of the proverbial (and literal) office for the time Nate was left with nowhere to go. Besides, half the people who talked about him seemed pretty certain he was dead. 

Nate felt a drop of irradiated water land on his head. He looked up at the clouds rolling overhead and sighed. Great, just what today needed. He held a hand up over his head and ducked into the tunnel leading to Park Street Station. He remembered getting off on this stop once or twice when he and Nora were still dating, just after he’d gotten back from the army. It had been one of the cleaner ones, and there had been a pretty decent pretzel shop too before they closed the station down.

The Geiger counter on Nate’s Pip-Boy ticked, warning Nate about the rads dropping down from the sky. It was probably safer for him to take cover inside the station than stay out here. Nate had had his first taste of true radiation poisoning two weeks ago, and it was an experience he had no intention to repeat. 

Nate trotted down the stairs, opening up the door and sliding through quietly, just in case this was one of those places where raiders or gunners or other unsavory types liked to hide.

And just his luck, it was one of those exact places!

“I just don’t get why he won’t kill ‘im,” A scratchy voice came from down below. “I mean, it ain’t even like that thing’s really alive, right? Why’s he pullin’ this sentimental crap all of a sudden?”

“Maybe it’s the girl?” A human voice offered. The other scoffed. 

"Yeah, when a guy thinks about goin' soft, he thinks of  _ Darla, _ " there was a chuckle from both men. 

"Fair, fair," the human man said. "I mean, she  _ was _ the one who dragged the metal man's sorry ass in here." he sighed. "I just don't get what's up with the gang anymore. Ever since the broad showed up things have been topsy turvy around here."

"You're not the only one who feels that way, but you better keep it down. I doubt the boss would wanna hear you talkin' smack, especially not 'bout his flame."

Welp. Nate had heard enough. It may be 300 years late for Al Capone to show up, but Nate knew 'mob speak' when he heard it. He backed up the slippery stairs towards the door. Diamond City wasn't that that far south, he could probably travel there and catch a room and dinner at the Dug Out. Maybe he could try to find that detective again; if the guy was still kickin' then he would make an excellent partner on his mission to find Shaun. He didn't have much money to pay for a detective at the moment - MacCready still had half of Nate's caps, and he already knew he was never seeing those again - but maybe he'd luck out and the guy would do it for free? 

Nate had only crept down two steps to listen in, thinking it would be easy enough to dart up those two steps and out the door if things went south. He was wrong. His hand brushed an empty bottle of vodka that hit the ground with a  _ thud _ and a  _ crash _ . The guards shouted and when Nate put his feet down on the ground to gun it for the door the rubber on his boots caught a slick tile and the next thing he knew he was tumbling down the stairs just to land right at the feet of a pair of goons. 

Nate starred up at them, and then at the pair of machine guns pointed at his face. 

"What the hell?" the human-looking one said. "Who the fuck is this?" 

"Nobody," the ghoul said with a shrug. He sounded impatient, "waste 'im" 

"H-hang on," Nate said hastily. 

"Nah, I wanna check with Malone first," the human said, grabbing Nate by the shoulder. "Guy with a vault suit walks in here is probably a big deal." Nate stumbled to his feet and was met with the barrel of the gun between his shoulder blades. "Move it, Vaultie, and no funny business, unless you wanna gain ten extra pounds of lead in your back." 

Nate looked between the two thugs. His handgun was in his pocket; neither of these thugs thought to check him for a weapon. They must think he's one of those people from the vaults that MacCready mentioned - the ones who literally grew up under a rock without the need to learn how to survive. He thought it through, but even if he got lucky there was no way he could reach for his weapon before either of the guards noticed and pull the trigger first. So Nate let himself be pushed along through the old sub-station while the goons bantered back and forth about one Skinny Malone and Nick Valentine. 

Nick Valentine, huh? Nate was sure he'd heard the name before somewhere… 

\---

Nick Valentine watched the Triggermen through the glass that separated them from him in his makeshift prison cell. Honestly, he never did get the appeal of a fish tank in an office before this. Turns out when faced with mind-numbing boredom, watching someone move around mindlessly for hours looking for something to eat or a place to crap was kinda interesting. Too bad these guys didn't spook and dropped dead if he tapped the glass too hard. At this point, Valentine would settle for them not talking so loud. 

"And so she gets to my place and starts freakin' out like 'there's blood on everything in here' and I told her 'ain't you used to this by now? You  _ are _ a lady, right?'" Nick rolled his eyes as the Triggermen who were taking an extra-long 'lunch break' laughed at their friend's stupid joke like they're kids at a frat house. Nick missed the days when guys like these would get their aggression out by playing football in their youth and then die of repeated head trauma at 35.

Nick had searched every inch of the room seven times over, the first for a way to get out and the rest as a cure for his boredom that never really managed to dull the dreary ache. It seemed he was just going to have to wait for Skinny to get tired of whatever game they were playing here and either cut him loose or shoot him in the head. After almost five weeks of being locked up in listening to his guards chat about women and beer, he'd take either out. 

"So when she finally calms down we actually had a pretty good night. Turned the radio on, set the mood and- hey! Who the fuck is that?" 

Nick raised an eyebrow. He couldn't see what was going on from where he was sitting, but it sounded like 3 sets of footsteps and a mild commotion. Nick stood up and paced over to the window to get a better look. 

"Some Vaultie who fell in through the park entrance," a rough voice Nick recognized as one of the guards. "I said we should shoot 'im, but this moron thinks he might be important."

"I'm just sayin', last guy who shot one'a the boss' pals got thrown in the river. Better safe than sorry, right?" 

"Whatever." 

The footsteps started up again. Nick couldn’t see anyone yet, but his guards had relocated themselves near the front entrance. It seemed that whoever they were bringing in was coming up the stairs.

“Hey, Nick! We gotta pal for you,” One of the less tolerable guards - a thick-headed man named Dino, if he recalled - called out to him. “Hope there’s enough air in there for the two of ya - I heard they made these vaults real airtight.” 

“With all the hot air you’ve been blowing I doubt we’ll be running low any time soon,” Nick returned. Before he was finished one of the guards piped up.

“What the hell is that thing on his wrist?” 

“It’s- a watch,” A new voice - probably the poor sap who’d been grabbed by Malone’s boys. There was a  _ smack _ and a soft “ow!” and one of the Triggermen spoke. 

“It’s a Pip-Boy, ya moron,” A ghoulish voice spoke up. “One of those weird tech things they got down in the real vaults.” 

“Huh. Bet the boss would want this then.”

“Hey! Wait don’t-” 

Another smack. 

“Shut it, Vaultie.”

The entourage of Triggermen finally came into view, as did Valentine’s new ‘cellmate’ for the evening. He was a well-built man in his late twenties, possibly early thirties. Blond hair, steel eyes, a knot in his nose that indicated it had been broken and treated recently. He was wearing a vaultsuit, as described, as well as a well-maintained set of combat armor. The man was about as clean as they come for modern Massachusetts; he either really was a Vault dweller or he was the most hygienic Scavver Nick had ever seen. 

“Back up, Valentine,” The ghoul thug barked. “And don’t try any funny business or we’ll shoot you and your new friend.” 

Nick backed away from the glass and into the shadows. He had a feeling that his confrontation with the new guy would go best if his more metallic bits were covered up. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped with a terrified vault dweller hurtling insults and/or various office supplies at him for the next several hours. 

The door slid open and the man in the vaultsuit came tumbling in after a kick from the Triggerman leading him around. He fell flat on his face, just barely bracing his fall with his arms, and the guards laughed as the door shut. 

“Enjoy the company, Vaultie,” Dino’s obnoxious voice was like sandpaper on Nick's ears. “Nicky here is a great conversationalist, I bet you two will have a ball.” 

“Sure,” Nick replied, trying to keep his voice friendly for the sake of the newcomer (and for the sake of keeping himself from an unprovoked attack). “Send a couple of those beers you keep hidden from Malone our way, we’ll make a day of it.” 

Dino’s laugh faded as he and the other guards left to go play cards and smoke while pretending to do their job. The worst part was that Nick couldn’t even take advantage of their incompetence from behind the locked door. 

Nick looked down at the vault dweller who was still lying against the ground. Christ, he hoped the guards didn’t rough the poor bastard up too bad. There were a few stimpacks and a roll of bandages in the drawer of the office, but Nick wasn’t exactly a skilled medic, for several reasons. 

Nick thought for a second, then came to a decision and stepped forward with his hand outstretched. 

“Need a hand?” Nick offered, kneeling down. “I’m no doctor but if your hurtin’ I can try to patch you up with the medkit under the desk.”

The vault dweller moved, pulling himself back up onto his heels. He reached to take Nick’s hand. “Appreciate it, but I’m fine. The only thing bruised is my digni...ty.” The vault dweller’s eyes stared at the metal hand in his, following the appendage back up the arm it was attached to and right to Nick’s face. Nick tried to smile, hoping it came off as ‘welcoming’ rather than ‘terrifying’. He knew he was a looker these days; the new tears in his neck exposed the writes running along his jaw and rose all the way up to his cheek. If he wasn’t him, he’d be shocked by his appearance too. 

Thankfully, the vault dweller seemed to at least be marginally more polite than most. He didn’t shout, scream, or demand an explanation, though he did stare slack-jawed at Nick for a good ten seconds. 

“Name’s Nick Valentine, private eye,” Nick said, taking his hand back from the stunned vault dweller now that the other man was on his feet. “Or at least, I used to be. Malone’s had me locked up here for weeks.”

“You’re… a detective?” The man said, still taking in Nick from head to toe. Nick was certain this was how mannequins felt back in those pre-war department stores. Something flashed in the man’s eyes, and suddenly his stupor was entirely abandoned. “Wait- Nick Valentine…? Are you- did you work out of Diamond City?”

“I might have.” Nick quirked an eyebrow. “Why? See my signs?” 

The man’s expression quickly shifted from uncertain to humored. He laughed, bringing his palm up to his forehead and combing his hair with nervous fingers. “That’s incredible - I was actually just about to look for you.”

That caught Nick’s attention. He looked over his so-called rescuer. He wasn’t all that impressed; the combat armor was nice enough, sure, but the man didn’t exactly strike him as the mercenary type. He seemed far too put-together for that, like someone from one of Nick’s pre-war memories. 

“So, you’re my knight in shining armor?” Nick said. “What business does someone from the vaults got that needs the help of an old detective?” 

“It’s… complicated,” The man admitted with a shrug. “The short version is my vault was attacked and someone I care about was kidnapped, and I’m trying to track down where he might have been taken.”

“I see,” Nick said. Damn, if this case wasn't interesting. It was too bad he was stuck here and not back at his office. This is exactly the kind of work he’d been waiting for for months now. “Well, missing person cases are my forte - if we get out of here I’ll see what I can do about lending a hand.” 

“I appreciate it,” The man said, and he looked like he meant it too. He seemed like the adaptable type; less than eight sentences in and he’s already seemed to accept Nick as a non-hostile. Not everyone was so understanding. 

The man laughed again. “You know, I’ll be honest, Mr. Valentine - after all this time I didn’t think you’d be a…” He trailed off, as if looking for a more polite way to finish that sentence. Nick’s mouth twitched involuntarily - a tick inherited from the old world Nick.

“A synth?” He supplied.

“Alive, actually,” The man corrected. “But yeah, that too, I guess.” He shook his head. “Everyone I talked to seemed sure you’d bit it weeks ago. Your secretary wouldn’t even talk to me; I’m pretty sure the city is trying to declare you legally dead.” 

“They’ve been trying to do that for years,” Nick admitted sardonically. “Thankfully I had a deal with the old mayor that’s pretty airtight that keeps me from being tossed out with the rest of the trash.” 

“Lucky that,” The man said. “I can’t imagine it was easy for someone like you to live in a place like that- no offense.” 

“None taken,” Nick said. “Diamond City has a lot of good people, but they sure don’t like to show it.” 

Nick reached for a cigarette in his pocket. Those annoying bastard guards weren’t good for much, but they were pretty entertained by the notion of a smoking synth so they threw him a pack whenever he asked about it. He knew they were mocking him, but if it meant he got his hands on a cigarette in this dull prison once in a while he’d be their little dance monkey. Nick hesitated before sparking his lighter, cigarette already between his teeth. Being in a vault meant that there were no windows, and he would hate to trap someone with human lungs in with the smell. He looked over at the vault dweller, who was staring at the cigarette as if he really wanted to ask the obvious question.

“Mind if I smoke?” Nick muttered awkwardly around the butt of the cigarette. The man snapped out of his trance and shook his head. 

“No, no, go ahead,” He said. Nick decided to take the man at his word, even though a part of him knew the vault dweller was probably just being polite. He lit the cigarette and took a drag, trying to keep the smoke from blowing in his cellmate’s direction. The man stared at the smoke coming up from the holes in Nick’s throat. Without warning, those gray eyes flicked back to Nick’s face. “Actually, mind if I have one?” He said. “I’ve had a pretty shit day.” 

Nick surprised himself with a laugh. “Really? Figured you were having a good time with the guards out there. Dino’s a great guy when he isn’t talking, or moving, or breathing.” He handed over a cigarette and offered the man a light. He accepted gratefully and pulled between a laugh of his own. Nick leaned back against the desk and the vault dweller sat on top of one of the short filing cabinets. 

“Was he the one with the scar taking up half his face or one who didn’t button his vest right? They’re all just so attractive, I can't tell them apart.” The man coughed after his second drag, face slightly red. 

“You weren’t tryin’ to quit, were you?” Nick asked. The man coughed again and shook his head.

“Nah, I already quit a while back,” He said. “Promised my wife after she got pregnant - haven’t at one since.” The look on the man’s face implied something far darker behind those words; Nick would bet caps that it had to do with the ‘missing person’ the vault dweller mentioned earlier.

“Sorry to spark a craving, then,” Nick said. Again, his concern was waved off. The two smoked in silence; the air around them thickened with a musky haze to the point where if someone walked by they may mistake Nick for human. After a while, Nick spoke again. “How long’s it been since you’ve had a smoke?” Part of it was small talk, another part was asking how old the man’s kid was without directly asking. Nick heard the man give a soft chuckle.

“Little over two hundred years,” He said, finishing off the last of his cigarette. “Give or take a decade and a few months.”

Nick frowned, processing what the man had said. “Two centuries, huh?” He pressed the cigarette back to his lips thoughtfully. “Hell of a long time to kick the habit; could never do it myself, and I don’t even get withdrawals.” 

200 years? What was that about? He hadn’t sounded like he was joking. Two options came to mind - either this man was completely off his rocker, or he was an incredibly well-preserved ghoul. Considering Nick’s internal Geiger counter didn’t pick up on radiation damage around his compatriot’s skin, it was more than likely the former. Fantastic. At least if Nick was going to get trapped with a loon he got a friendly one, not one of the murdery ones. Nick wasn’t going to push his luck and try to find out just what the hell the man’s delusion was, at least not yet. 

“Say, I never did catch your name,” Nick said.

“Oh, sorry - I’m Nate,” The man - Nate - said. He snubbed his cigarette in one of the 200-year-old ashtrays that were omnipresent in office sites everywhere. “I probably should have started with that.” 

“There was a lot going on, I understand,” Nick said with a shrug. “What with being kidnapped and locked in a room with a synth and all.” 

Nate laughed. “Yeah, well, you’re far from the worst company I’ve been roomed with.” 

“That so?” Nick raised a brow. 

“Well, for starters, I doubt you snore,” Nate pointed out. “And you share. That’s at least two good qualities.”

“Suppose so,” Nick returned. “Now if only they did room service in this place.”

“Man, could I go for a Slocum’s coffee right about now,” Nate said, closing his eyes. Nick was a bit surprised by the brand - the only reason he knew about Slocum’s coffee was from memories inherited from the original Nick. Maybe they still had the stuff down in the vaults, if that was really where this guy was from. Either that, or the man wasn't kidding about being from the past. Nate opened his eyes again, looking at Nick with a new seriousness in him. “So, what's your plan of escape?”

Nick raised a brow. “You’re lookin’ at it.” He said. “I’ve been in here for weeks, remember? If there was a secret escape tunnel or back door I would’ve sprung myself a long time ago and we’d be having this conversation back at my office.”

“Huh, really?” Nate slid off the filing cabinet. “I’m gonna take a look around for myself, not that I doubt your work, Detective.” 

“Having another set of eyes on the problem always helps,” Nick said. It was one of the many reasons he missed having a partner. The other prominent reason was that Marty was able to watch his back so teenage girls rebelling against their parents by joining the mob didn’t bash his circuits in when he turned his back. “The terminal’s hooked up to the mainframe for the building, but the connection is encrypted good. Can’t get through with normal hacking routines.” 

Nick watched as Nate walked over to the terminal and gave it a once over. Most people these days were lucky if they knew what button to press to turn a terminal on, but Nate was (supposedly) from a vault, so maybe he knew a thing or two about computers. That hope was dashed when Nick watched the man pick the keyboard up off the desk and flip it over, staring at the underside. Nick held back a sigh. Of course, what had he been expecting?

Nick turned back around and let Nate continue his poking around. It gave him a minute to think on the facts as he knew them. Nate was wearing a vaultsuit and claimed to be over 200 years old, making him either delusional, a compulsive liar, or one hell of a lucky guy - that meant odds were everything he said was suspect. There was also the fact that Nate had been searching for Nick, but it appeared that he stumbled upon the detective by pure coincidence. The Commonwealth was a small place, but not that small. Something about the situation felt off to Nick, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it yet. 

“Hey, Nick,” Nate called. Nick turned; Nate was still at the terminal, only this time the keyboard was right side up and he was tapping away at the buttons. “Is this the directory you were trying to get into?” 

Nick’s brow furrowed and he walked around to peer over Nate’s shoulder. Low and behold, the mainframe directory was open on the desktop. The controls for the entire facility’s power grid were at their fingertips. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Nick muttered, nudging Nate aside so he could get at the terminal. “I’ve been trying to hack this thing for weeks - how did you get in so fast?” 

Nate smiled and tapped a piece of faded paper Nick had never seen before. Dull, half-peeled tape marred the edges, and on the center was a username and password written in marker. “It was taped under the keyboard; my wife’s office used to do the same thing. I never understood the point of having a secure password when you keep it written down so close to the computer.”

There was a lot of information to parse through in that sentence, but Nick was too busy feeling embarrassed that he had spent three weeks trying to break into the mainframe with the key literally under his nose the entire time. 

“Nice work. You sure you need a detective?” Nick said, fingers flying across the keyboard. 

“Reading off a few numbers is a far cry from tracking down a missing person,” Nate said, watching Nick from over the detective’s shoulder. “So what is all this then?” 

“The vault’s power grid is remotely operated through the main system,” Nick said as he navigated through the terminal. “If I can find the connection keeping the door locked, I should be able to disable it and let us out.”

“Nice,” Nate said with a chuckle. “Then we’re at the home stretch.” 

“I wouldn’t start celebrating just yet,” Nick said. “There’s still a vault full of Skinny Malone’s men to deal with. I don’t think they’ll take kindly to us seeing ourselves out.”

“Why do they even have you here anyways?” Nate asked. “I’m pretty sure they’re just waiting for permission to shoot me.” 

Nick grunted. “Skinny and I go back. The guy is a bit messed up in the judgment department - he’s got it in his head that we’re some kinda rivals and if he killed me that would end our story, or something like that.”

“He sounds like a Chicago mobster wannabe to me,” Nate said. 

“Hit the nail on the head with that one,” Nick replied, typing in his final commands. “Bingo.” He pushed the chair back from the terminal. “I’ve got the terminal rigged so that next time one of us hits the ‘escape’ key the doors will open.” Or at least, that’s what it’s supposed to. There wasn’t any way for Nick to test it without alerting the guards and losing their one advantage. “The only problem left now is that as soon as those doors open we need to be ready to make a break for it. Skinny Malone has kept this place guarded around the clock since I got here. We’re probably going to have to fight our way out.”

“I was able to keep my gun on me when they brought me in,” Nate said, motioning to a slight bulge in the front of his jumpsuit. Nick was actually somewhat relieved to know that it was, in fact, a gun in the man’s pocket. “I only have about twenty shots though.”

“And I don’t exactly like our odds of two men and a single pistol against half a dozen armed guards,” Nick added. “We’re gonna need a plan.”

Nate smiled, hands clapped together. "I think I have an idea." 


	2. Escape

“Hey, someone might want to check on my new roommate, I don’t think he’s breathing.”

“The fuck did you do, Valentine?” 

“Not a damn thing. The guy helped himself to a cigarette and passed out.”

“ _ Goddamnit _ , hold on!”

“Dino, get the password.” 

“Jesus Nicky, did you smoke a whole pack in here?”

“Where’s the Vaultie at?”

_ BANG. BANG. _

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Nick said, pressing a button on the terminal to open the door back up. Nate lowered his gun. It took some careful maneuvering to un-wedge himself from behind the cabinet so he could follow Nick out.

“They didn’t seem particularly bright,” Nate said as he trotted up behind the detective, footsteps echoing across the empty staircase. He made too much noise when he walked.

“It looks like Malone must have called a meeting,” Nick said, carefully peering through the door leading out to the rest of the vault. “Most of his men are out of their stations.” 

“That’s probably a good thing,” Nate said. “I prefer to do as little shooting as possible.”

“Same here. Safer that way,” Valentine agreed. They were lucky no one heard the first two shots Nate used to take out Dino and his pal. The two crept through the living quarters of the vault that had become the barracks for Skinny Malone’s crew. Valentine was able to pick up a submachine gun and a hundred rounds while Nate restocked on ammo. 

“Before we leave I want to get my Pip-Boy back,” Nate said. “It’s been pretty useful for surviving up here.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I wouldn’t count on finding it,” Nick said. “You’d be better off leaving now and coming back later when you’re a little more prepared for a full on war with the Triggermen .”

Nate didn’t seem pleased with that answer, but he didn’t argue. At least he was reasonable. Nick still had no idea what to make of the alleged vault dweller, but so far the man hadn’t acted in a way to make Nick doubt anything other than his sanity. A lot of people in the Commonwealth were more than happy to commit minor massacres at a moment's notice; at the very least, Nate seemed like the kind of guy to ask questions first. 

“If we can get back to the vault entrance there should be tracks that lead to Andrew Station south of here,” Nate said, sliding a series of 10mm bullets into the magazine. “I doubt we’ll be able to catch a train but the walk won’t be too bad.” 

“Andrew Station?” Nick said. It was comments like that lent credibility to Nate’s assertion that he was over 200 years old. Nick decided if he was going to be traveling with this guy for any longer than a haphazard escape attempt it would be nice to know for sure what his deal was. He opened his mouth to ask the million cap question when he was tackled to the ground by Nate. The window looking into the quarters shattered to pieces in a roar of gunfire. Nate rolled off of Nick and pressed his back to the wall, peeking the corner and firing off shots.

The whole thing happened faster than Nick could process. Normally with his mechanical mind, he was able to react faster than his human companions, but he was still just a detective. Nick the cop had hardly been trained to do more than duck, cover and shoot, and Nick the synth had been self-taught by the wastes; the way that Nate moved was more akin to a pre-war soldier or someone with the Brotherhood of Steel. Nick severely doubted it was the latter, or else he probably would have caught a bullet to the CPU by now. 

Nick picked up the slack and returned fire on the group of triggermen shooting at them from the halls. He kept his head low and fired near-blindly at a ghoul in a three-piece tux hiding behind a pillar. Nick caught the man in the shoulder and took out his arm. The next bullet to meet its mark was fired by Nate and struck the ghoul through the side of the head. 

“Nice shot,” Nick said. Nate didn’t reply or even seem to hear him. Nate continued to fire off shot after shot, only pausing to reload or relocate; he was entirely focused on the fight. It was hard to believe he was even the same person.

When the last of the Triggermen were either shot and running in the opposite direction Nick finally lowered his gun. 

“There’s no way Malone didn't hear that,” Nick muttered. “We better hightail it out of here before reinforcements show up.” 

Nate nodded, shouldering a pilfered ammo bag. “This way; I think I came through here when they brought me in.”

Nick let Nate lead the way. It had been several weeks since he’d walked through these halls, and his memory wasn’t much of what it used to be. When he and Nate heard footsteps they ducked into a maintenance closet. They watched the shadows of several Triggermen pass by in the cramped space. When they were sure they were alone in the halls again they stepped out. 

“That was fortunate,” Nick said. “That was probably about half of Malone’s crew that just walked past us.”

“Yeah, that happens around me,” Nate said casually. The military edge to his attitude had faded some, though there was still a sharpness about him. “I’ve got a weird lucky streak. It’s been that way my whole life.” 

That was… an interesting concept. Nick didn’t buy into the idea of luck as a whole, but it wasn’t the craziest belief he’d heard from a potential client. To be fair, Nate had already said a handful of things that would take that spot. Speaking of which…

Nick had gotten the first syllable of his question out when Nate suddenly shot forward. Nick hardly had time to react before he saw Nate grab a tiny, angry woman out from around the bend in the hall, a hand cupped over her mouth and an arm pinning both her arms to her chest. Her hand seized and she was forced to drop the hickory bat she had bin clutching tight.

Darla.

“Don’t scream,” Nate said.

She screamed. 

“In here,” Nick said hastily, opening up the door to one of the private rooms off the side of the hall. Darla’s undoubtedly profane shouts were muffled by Nate’s hand but if anyone was nearby they would hear them for sure. Nate dragged the woman in the sequin dress into the room and let the door shut behind them and leave all three of them in the dark.

“Careful,” Nick warned. “That’s Skinny Malone’s new girl, the one I was looking for when I came here. Don’t turn your back on her, she hits hard.” 

Darla stopped screaming and even though Nick couldn’t see it he knew she was glaring at him. 

“Alright, Darla,” Nate said, likely trying to emulate a soothing voice. “I’m gonna let you go now, and it would be in everyone’s best interest if you kept quiet. Nick and I are armed.” Darla, backlit by the light escaping from cracks in the door, nodded once. Nate let her go, but not before grabbing her wrist and unbuckling the Pip-Boy she had strapped there.

“That’s mine!” Darla snapped in a whisper. “Skinny gave it to me.”

“Well, it was mine first, so I’m taking it back,” Nate replied, fixing the device over the tan line of his right list. Nick kept his gun trained on Darla, though he aimed for her legs rather than her head. He’d made the mistake of underestimating her once; even without her bat, he wasn’t taking the risk.

“I swear if either of you try anything funny-” Darla snarled. 

“The only one here pulling tricks is you and your gentleman caller,” Nick said, unable to keep the distaste from his voice. “I came here to rescue you, you know.”

“Yeah, like I need help from some mechanical  _ dick _ ,” She snapped. “I ain’t some damsel who needs daddy to come rescue her.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very independent and mature,” Nick snarked. “Now how’s about you show us the way out of this joint; preferably on a less crowded route.” Nick knew as soon as he said it there was no way they could trust her directions, but apparently, it didn’t matter because soon after came the sound of a set of heavy (and unfortunately  _ familiar _ ) footsteps.

The door flew open and light flooded in, provoking a wince from the two humans in the room and a glare from Nick.

“Valentine!” Skinny Malone shouted, face redder than usual. He was flanked by at least six triggermen on either side, all with guns pointed directly at the trio in the room. “You got five seconds to hand over my girl or I’m gonna put so many bullets in you.” 

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Malone,” Nick returned, keeping his gun leveled at Darla. Nate grabbed her arm so she wouldn’t get the dumb idea to bolt and ignite their little standoff. “We were just on the way out when we ran into Darla in the halls. After our last run-in, I thought I’d return the favor by locking _her_ up in a vault.”

“Skinny, get me out of here!” Darla snapped, pulling against Nate’s hold. “Waste these creeps!” 

“Darla, be quiet! I got this under control,” From the tone of his voice, Malone didn’t feel the situation was anywhere near under his control. In all fairness, Nick felt about the same way. There were about a hundred ways this could go down, and very few of them ended with him and his new friend walking out of this mess unharmed, and even less where everyone involved stayed alive. It was a bad situation all around. 

“Wait -  _ you’re  _ Skinny Malone?” Nate said, looking genuinely surprised. Nick sucked in a quick breath. Should have probably warned Nate about that.

Skinny Malone, for his part, looked absolutely  _ irate _ . “Shut up, Vaultie - you walk into  _ my  _ Vault, shoot  _ my _ guys, kidnap  _ my girl?? _ ”

“I ain’t your nothin’ if you don’t get me outta here, Skinny,” Darla screeched, and Nate had to clamp down hard on her arm to keep her still.

“Darla, can it. I’m gonna get you out of this then blast these schmucks out of the water.”

“Wait, uh, Skinny,” Nate cut in. “Does the name ‘Lily June’ mean anything to you?”

Both Nick and Malone practically jumped. Nick took his eyes off Darla for the first time since Nate had grabbed her and stared at the man in the vault suit. How on earth did he…?

Skinny Malone looked between Nick and Nate, trying to decide who he hated more. He settled on Nick with a hate-filled glare. “You lying little snitch - swore you’d never talk about what happened at the quarry again.” 

“I didn’t tell him,” Nick said, just as baffled. 

“Come on, man, just let us go,” Nate said, bringing Malone’s attention back on to him. “No one else has gotta get hurt here. Nick and I will walk out and never bother you again.”

Skinny Malone brought his fingers up to the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Darla stared at her mafioso beau as if she’d never seen him before.

“ _ Skinny! _ ” She screamed. “ _ Kill them! _ ”

“I said shut up, Darla!” He snapped back. He waved his hand and the Triggermen behind him lowered their guns. “Nick, I swear to god, I better never see your face again. This is it - we’re even now.” He backed up, and his men - confused - cleared a path for Nick and Nate to walk through. “And while you’re at it, take the girl with you,” Skinny said. “She’s gettin’ to be a real handful.” 

_ “What!? _ ” Darla screeched, ripping her arm free of Nate’s loosened grasp. “I’ve stuck by you throughout this entire hair-brained scheme, and now you think you can just cut me loose!?”

Nate looked between the quarreling lovers, watching dumbly as they spit heated accusations and venomous slurs at each other. Nick put a hand on the man’s shoulder. Nate jumped and turned to look at the detective. 

“Come on,” Nick said. “I think we've overstayed our welcome.”

“Don’t you need to bring the girl back?” Nate asked. Nick shrugged.

“Darla’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need an escort if she decides to high tail it,” Nicks said. “Besides, her parents only paid me to find out what happened to her. They didn’t say anything about bringing her back.” 

“Fair enough,” Nate said, looking back at the woman in the sequin dress being restrained by three guards from tearing out Skinny Malone’s eyes with her well-manicured nails. He followed close behind Nick as the pair searched for the exit. The vault door wasn’t too far and the Pip-Boy on Nate’s wrist made quick work of opening it up. From there it was only a matter of finding the service exit and climbing back out - Nick just hoped he could remember how to find it. 

“So, how  _ did _ you know about me and Skinny?” Nick asked when they were out of the Triggerman's line of fire. “I was under the impression you didn’t do much research prior to our meeting.”

“You mean the thing about Lilly June?” Nate laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Crazy story - see, there’s this old lady who I saved from raiders in Concord. She saw that I had a canister of Jet on me and asked for a hit, and it turns out when she gets high she can see the future - or something like that, the details are real fuzzy - anyways, she told me to mention Lilly June if I ran into a fat man in a vault.”

Nick looked at his new-found friend, squinting. Finally, he made up his mind and asked, “Deacon? Is that you?” 

“Huh?” Nate said. He clearly didn’t recognize the name, and Deacon tended to break character when he was called out by name, especially when Nick addressed him. So either this was  _ another _ compulsive liar with a manic streak let loose on the Commonwealth, or Nick had finally met someone with a more interesting backstory than himself. 

Either way, he figured that it was in his best interest to stick around with the guy for a bit. Who knew? It couldn’t hurt having someone with a bit of crazy and a whole lot of luck on his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I didn't do a lot of editing on this chapter because it was short and I am tired, so forgive the (probably many) mistakes here. Part 3 of the original storyline comes out next week, so stay tuned <3

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed <3 Leave a kudos or a comment if you did. I'll see you in the next installment!!!!


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